


Nothings

by marimoes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Oblivious, Pet Names, Pining, Short & Sweet, but only a little and only because Nathaniel is Nathaniel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: The name started as nothing, as most things do.A tease on the lips of an acquaintance that didn’t mean anything to Nathaniel. This man, Anders, didn’t know anything about him or what he came from. Apparently no one in Ferelden did, or so he would come to learn several times over in the coming weeks.Still, it was nothing.
Relationships: Anders/Nathaniel Howe
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Nothings

The name started as nothing, as most things do. 

A tease on the lips of an acquaintance that didn’t mean anything to Nathaniel. This man, Anders, didn’t know anything about him or what he came from. Apparently no one in Ferelden did, or so he would come to learn several times over in the coming weeks. 

Still, it was nothing. 

“Darling,” Anders would call him with a honey laden tone.

Nathaniel wouldn’t respond, wouldn’t dare give any rise to the thing that made his skin itch with irritation. He already saw where that got him earlier with the Warden. That harsh words lead to harsh consequences in the form of a potentially deadly ritual. 

It wasn’t until much later, with an arm weakly slung around Anders’ shoulder after battle, that he would comment. 

“Why?” Nathaniel asked, gritting his teeth as they fell to rest against the ground. Their bodies screamed for much more than rest, but then it was all they could give. “Why do you call me ‘Darling’ when you seem to hate me so much?” 

A laugh blew from Anders’ lips before a groan, and with a shake of his head he said, “Oh, no. I don’t call you darling because I hate you.” 

This sent a wrench into the gears of Nathaniel’s mind for a moment. A soft grind until Anders reached up and brushed his face, setting it free. Had he truly misunderstood this whole time?

“You were the ‘darling boy’ of that Arl Howe when I met you. That’s all,” Anders explained, retrieving his hand, “turns out you’re simply darling regardless.” 

The words were in plain English, spoken in a way that Nathaniel more than understood, but it wasn’t until Anders fell back against the ground that they sunk in. _Darling regardless._

“So, you don’t hate me?” Nathaniel reiterated, forehead wrinkling with confusion, “I could have sworn.” 

Anders shook his head, grin growing wide before pressing into a tight smile. “Oh, you silly Howe. I suppose your family does get its fair share of that, and I didn’t exactly help initially either. But no, I don’t hate you, not in the slightest.” 

That moment clung to Nathaniel for well over two weeks. It wasn’t annoyance that twisted his stomach, that much he was certain about. Rather that it was a discomfort that both intensified and eased each time Anders would place a hand on his shoulder, or hand him something. 

It all reached its peak the night they were at the tavern playing Wicked Grace. Anders wagered that they put something a little better than coin on the line and being two drinks in Nathaniel agreed. 

What was life without a gamble after all? 

“If I win this next round, you owe me a favor,” Anders said, head resting on his hands like a crown, grin as wicked as the game itself, “What do you say?” 

“What kind of favor?” The collar of Nathaniel’s shirt suddenly felt tighter, pressing against his Adam's apple as he swallowed. “I’m not taking your cleaning duties at the keep… again.”

“You wagered that one yourself. Don’t blame it on me,” Anders said, taking another sip, “It’s not a hard favor that I have in mind, anyways. So, what do you say?” 

Nathaniel shuffled the cards once more in his hands. Their flutter feeling all too similar to his own chest as they fell into place, but his body didn’t follow. If it were so easy, why wouldn’t Anders just ask him for it anyways? Why wager it on a game?

“Deal, and you owe me the same if I win,” Nathaniel agreed, hands dealing quickly across the table. 

The game was over in record time, Anders winning handsomely and looking about the same as he stood stretching from his chair. When Nathaniel asked what the favor was, throwing the rest of his drink back with a heavy swallow, Anders waved hand motioning towards the door. Whatever it was that he desired was outside, and the pit that had recently left Nathaniel’s stomach returned. 

Anders guided him down the street, hands clasped behind his back wordlessly, never once turning to look and see if Nathaniel was following. 

Mostly because he knew that he would. Nathaniel was good about things like that, much to his own disdain. 

When Anders dipped down an alley is when Nathaniel started to question. A pause in his step that was taken by another quick wave of Anders' hand from the darkness. Beneath the cover of night, lit only by what the moon could give, he rested against the stone wall. 

“What’s the favor, Anders?” Nathaniel asked as he stopped in front of him, arms tucking cautiously into themselves, “And why do we need to be here for it? I thought you said it wasn’t difficult.” 

The space between them was minor. No more than a foot rested between their chests, as if a secret were being passed between them rather than a request. 

“It isn’t,” Anders replied, pushing up to close the gap to only an inch, “I just want you to tell me why you’ve been acting strange lately, that’s all.” 

“That isn’t a favor, Anders,” Nathaniel argued, throat closing at the accusation, “You didn’t need to play me in cards to ask a question that is ridiculous in the first place.” 

Anders eyebrows raised in surprise. “I think differently. You’ve been playing this weird game of your own lately. Always getting close, but then running off. If I’ve done something, let me know.” 

“Why does it matter to you?” The words tasted bitter in Nathaniel’s mouth and with a deeper breath he shook his head. This was Anders' favor and he had to honor it. “You stopped calling me ‘darling’ almost two weeks ago, so I thought I did something wrong. I kept my distance, while trying to make whatever I did right.” 

Falling back against the wall, Anders sighed before pushing his palms into his eyes. “You’re impossible.” 

“ _I’m impossible_?” Nathaniel countered, stepping forward to pin a hand above Anders’ shoulder, “I answered you. Now you owe me a favor, and it’s telling me what I did.” 

Time stood still in that moment, but Nathaniel’s heart didn’t. Instead it beat wildly as if he were being chased, trying to spring straight out of his chest onto Anders. Out of everyone in their party, he thought he understood the man before him best. 

Now, he wasn’t so sure. 

Anders' hands fell from his face with a groan before leaning forwards to capture Nathaniel’s lips. They curved into a smile against his skin, warm and light. Body moving of his own accord, Nathaniel kissed back. His hand dug into the wall to keep himself supported, but it could’ve gone numb and he wouldn’t have cared. 

When they parted, time seemed to start again, and Anders fell back into place. He shook his head, fingers scratching beneath the base of his ponytail before answering, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I thought it made you mad, so I stopped. It’s nothing.” 

“Well, don’t—stop, that is,” Nathaniel demanded, breath still shaking from an unusual high, “And Maker’s breath, what was that?” 

“What was that, indeed,” Anders replied with a hum. Reaching forward, his hands straightened Nathaniel’s collar, carefully tugging it back into place. “I like you, Nathaniel—a lot. And given by your response, I would dare to say you felt the same.” 

“I,” Nathaniel started to respond, but held his tongue. He never once considered what was wrong this whole time could have been something as simple as feelings. “I suppose I do.” 

Anders’ earring gleamed once in the low light before disappearing, but his smile took its place. “Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like your company for a while longer. Catch up on the last few weeks.” 

And Nathaniel did just that; giving Anders his company and Anders giving him his in kind. With words and stories shared as they sat against the worn headboard of Anders’ bed, going until their eyes couldn’t stay open. 

When Nathaniel woke the next morning, it was not quite light outside. Deep purples and reds bled into the dark of night and onto the inn floor, carrying the memory of the night before with it. 

Everything quiet except the yawn next to his ear, that fell into a murmur of waking. His eyes found Anders’, slitted with sleep and a smile. But it wasn’t the same smile anymore, and likely never would be again. Not that Nathaniel wanted it to be when Anders’ lips pressed against his. 

The name was now sweet, and no longer nothing, as Anders whispered, “Good morning, darling.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @__moes__/@morriganbutnot  
> Tumblr: @noswordstyle


End file.
